<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>sweet chaos by sisigsilog</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094685">sweet chaos</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisigsilog/pseuds/sisigsilog'>sisigsilog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Day6 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boxer AU, Boxer!Park Sungjin, FWB!Park Sungjin, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits AU, Gangs, Gen, Implied Death, Mentions of blood and injuries, Pining, Swearing, Tending to injuries, Underground Boxer AU, his power, i found out sungjin used to do boxing and i went crazy, im a slut for tending to injuries, seoul boxer park sungjin has gotten into some trouble, underground boxing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:47:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisigsilog/pseuds/sisigsilog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>there is no other way to describe sungjin other than </i>he looks like shit<i>. positively. if you squint, you can see his chest heaving, and while the darkness obscures most of his face the glint of blood is undeniable. it’s everywhere: a split lip, a busted brow, a bleeding nose.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>still, “are you okay” are the first words out of his mouth, like he isn’t the one with the bleeding face.</i>
</p><hr/>
<p>your stress outlet comes in the form of park sungjin, an underground boxer making a living in seoul. it’s not out of place for him to ask you to come over and relieve tension, but it certainly is strange when his apartment turns out to be empty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Park Sungjin/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sweet chaos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i... mainly just want to see tough boxer guy sungjin with the strong arms and even stronger gaze ,, and tend to his injuries... this is self indulgent and u can tell i used to be a daredevil stan lmfao</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>[10:23 PM] Park Sungjin: Come over. 11 PM.</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It’s been three hours, now.</p>
<p>At first, you think it’s a prank, that he’s called you over and he isn’t even here. But the Sungjin you know thinks those types of jokes are nonsense. He only calls you over for sex and the occasional deep talk, and there’s no time for messing around where the two of you are concerned.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>[1:30 AM] L/N Y/N: leaving if you’re not here.</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>You let five minutes pass. Still no reply. You don’t know why you stayed for so long either—he’s a great friend-with-benefits but more than that, you think you’re starting to enjoy his company. Which is bad, because he’s an underground boxer and you’re a journalist trying to hold onto what’s left of your career in the seedy underbelly of Seoul. You don’t have the time nor the vulnerability to fall in love with anybody yet.</p>
<p>You sigh and put on your shoes. On the couch in the living room, his clothes are folded neatly and stacked. There’s not a speck of dirt in sight. He’s always been such a clean person and you’ve joked about it before, the irony of a clean-freak underground boxer. You think if you give Sungjin a place on the sidewalk, he’ll clean it up so well you can eat on the floor. No amount of effort, though, will mask the oozing smell of Seoul basement, like paint thinner and sickly-sweet overripe peaches. The scent seems to come off the city’s skin itself.</p>
<p>“I’m going, now,” you announce to nobody in particular, and your voice echoes. When you walk to the door your footsteps seem muted. Outside, the dragging of feet.</p>
<p>Hand placed over the doorknob, about to turn, you freeze.</p>
<p>You know that sound: it’s Sungjin’s. After a match, when all the energy has been seeped from him and he just wants to take a bath and rest—he drags his feet.</p>
<p>The dragging stops. You open the door, and there he is.</p>
<p>There is no other way to describe Sungjin other than <em>he looks like shit.</em> Positively. If you squint, you can see his chest heaving, and while the darkness obscures most of his face the glint of blood is undeniable. It’s everywhere: a split lip, a busted brow, a bleeding nose.</p>
<p>Still, “are you okay” are the first words out of his mouth. Like he isn’t the one with the bleeding face.</p>
<p>“Shit,” you murmur, pulling him inside the apartment as gently as you can. “Shit—what happened to y—<em>who did this to you?”</em></p>
<p>He doesn’t answer. You open the lights.</p>
<p>You then have to bite down <em>hard</em> on your lip to stop yourself from panicking completely. Because Sungjin’s face, now fully visible, is a canvas of red and brown and black, and swelling, and torn flesh. At least, you can still recognize his features. And his eyes, which you like looking into so much, are untouched save for some redness.</p>
<p>“What happened?” You move like clockwork: get the warm towels, the gauze, the antiseptic. A fresh change of clothes, a glass of water. You’re thinking too fast to feel the dread that comes with seeing him beat up. “Sungjin, answer me.”</p>
<p>His gaze meets yours and lingers. “Sorry I made you come here.” His mouth breaks into a smile, but it’s gone just as quick as it came, because his lip starts bleeding where it’s split.</p>
<p>You make quick work of him. Pressing, tapping, and wiping. He lets you get close to his face—like he only ever does when he’s injured—and you wipe the dried blood from his cheek, revealing the freckles. You sigh. “You always make me worry.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, you should see the other guys.”</p>
<p>“Sungjin,” you say. “Stop playing it off. You’re nearly dead. What happened to you?”</p>
<p>He’s not smiling, but there’s still an amused light in his eyes. “Do you hate me now?”</p>
<p>“No. You know I can’t hate you.” You press the warm cloth to his busted brow. “I just wish you were a little more careful.”</p>
<p>“I am.”</p>
<p>“I mean it. I don’t like seeing you like this.”</p>
<p>“Don’t come to your apartment, it’s trashed” is his only reply. </p>
<p>You stop, just short of tending to his cut lip, which you think is still pretty like this.  “My apartment?”</p>
<p>“They wanted me,” he says, finally becoming serious, the words coming out gruff. “They thought you were my girlfriend, so they were going to come for you instead.”</p>
<p><em>They were going to come for you instead. </em>You feel your throat constrict. Sungjin’s an honorable boxer—as honorable as the underground ones came—and he doesn’t take paid falls and lose on purpose. Unfortunately, that meant he often got on the bad side of betting gangs and boxing promoters.</p>
<p>Your hand, so close to his lips, starts to shake. Just a miniscule tremor. “Sungjin...”</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” he hums. “I called you here so they wouldn’t find you. They’re gone now.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that.” <em>He’s so handsome, even like this. Why is he so handsome?</em> “Why didn’t you just avoid them?”</p>
<p>He looks at you with that subtly pained expression, jaw tense and brow furrowed. “Then they wouldn’t stop coming for you. I had to make sure they’re gone.”</p>
<p>“Gone,” you repeat. “Did you—”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about them.” He takes the towel from you hand and stands up slowly, like his muscles are about to give. “Thanks for the clothes.”</p>
<p>“Is your—is your body hurt? Can you stand? Do you need help?”</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll go change. Wait here.”</p>
<p>He disappears into his bedroom. You wait for what you think is an awfully long ten minutes, then you go to knock on his door. He’s taking too long. “Sungjin?”</p>
<p>“Don’t come in here,” the voice comes from behind the door. His tone is weak and unlike him. You think of Sungjin, who is multifaceted like water, who is cheery in public, contemplative in solitude, and a beast in the ring. You think of how you’ve grown fond of all of his sides. “Don’t come in here, Y/N.”</p>
<p>“I’m coming in,” you say, and you do—and you walk in to see him, shirtless. More importantly: the full extent of his injuries. There are no grotesque angles, thankfully, but all across his torso and arms are sore hits, sure to develop into bruises. </p>
<p>Sungjin winces. “I told you not to come in, go away,” he says, but his tone is too tired to argue.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know they were after us,” you say quietly. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“That’s okay, I didn’t tell you.”</p>
<p>“But now you’re hurt and it’s because of me. Listen, I don’t need your help, I don’t want you to end up like this because of m—”</p>
<p>“Y/N,” Sungjin says, “I couldn’t let them hurt you. It’s okay, let it go. I guess I’d like to keep you around, that’s all.”</p>
<p>Your breath hitches. Everything you’d planned to say gets thrown out the window. “I’d like to keep you around, too,” you murmur. “Don’t do anything like that ever again.”</p>
<p>By some impulse you hold out a hand to touch his face. You have enough common sense to stop yourself, but barely, and your fingertips brush against his cheek. You look down, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment wash over you. “Sorry. I should go.”</p>
<p>“No. Stay tonight.”</p>
<p>You look up and meet his eyes. They’re still so beautiful, untouched by the bruises around his face, and with such ineffable emotion that it gets you choked up. “Sungjin, you’re tired. We shouldn’t do it right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mean in that way. I want to make sure you stay safe tonight,” he says. “Stay with me.”</p>
<p>In that moment you find that you cannot move. </p>
<p>You let his large hands cup your face, gently, bringing you up—and he kisses you gingerly. Languid, barely meeting.</p>
<p>Deep down, you know there’s no place in your future for this raw devotion you have for him. It’s feral, unchecked. But you find yourself kissing back, so unlike the passionate, needy kissing you’re used to. There’s no sex, no lust. It’s a simple kiss. Soft, vulnerable. You can taste the blood on his lips.</p>
<p>“Okay,” you say. This is the closest you will ever get to loving him. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>